


New Boundaries

by Trotzkopf



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gruesome Crime Scene, M/M, established vetvimes, hint at bdsm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 13:52:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13928442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trotzkopf/pseuds/Trotzkopf
Summary: Be careful what you do, especially when you think no-one is watching. It might lead to uncharted new territory.





	New Boundaries

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of a prompt drabble challenge on tumblr. The prompt was “H-How long have you been standing there?”

The first thing Vimes noticed was the smell of leather. Not the eye-watering stink of a tannery, but the pleasant scent of new, high-quality leather goods. It permeated the shop in Wilson’s Alley and covered nicely the otherwise rather penetrating stink of corpse.

“It’s Tuskin Scrope, Mister Vimes. Just as we’d feared,” Carrot said, his face matching the colour of his hair. Having been raised as a dwarf, the captain was visibly uncomfortable around the merchandise for which the late Scrope had been famous.

“He even got mail orders from Pseudopolis.” Sergeant Scullery whistled. She was one of eight watchmen investigating the potential crime scene.

“Well, it’s not as if Ankh-Morpork has a monopoly on sexual deviance,” remarked Corporal Moulder, waggling his eyebrows and waving one of the less identifiable items at her. It jingled. 

“More work, less play,” snapped Vimes which was greeted with a chorus of yessirs. 

“The palace will be all over this. His lordship tends to take a personal interest when guild leaders pop their clogs. Any idea about the cause of death yet?” Vimes asked while he surreptitiously eyed the goods on the shelves as he made his way to the back room. Some looked positively frightening. 

“Well—”

“His head fell off,” greeted Sergeant Littlebottom, chief forensics officer. 

“What, by itself? He wasn’t a zombie, was he?” Vimes asked, glancing at the corpse which was indeed headless. 

“No,” she replied, “he had help. Can you see here, these jagged bits of tissue? I think someone got creative with a saw.” 

“Terrific,” Vimes growled. Creative weapon usually meant someone was making a point. Bloody Vetinari would be riding his ass over this. 

_“And he’s doing plenty of that already,”_ Sam thought, carefully keeping his face blank. What he and the Patrician did in their spare time was nobody’s business. 

He stepped over the body and walked deeper into the store room. The floor looked clean, no sign that the attacker had ever been in this part of the shop. Still, it never hurt to make sure. 

There was only little light back here. The shelves on either side were stocked with boxes. Vimes pulled one out at random and looked inside. It was…beautiful. He touched it with his fingertips. 

“So soft,” he whispered and after casting a quick glance toward the mouth of the isle, he took it out. It was dark brown leather with a black metal buckle and loop at the front to attach a leash, no doubt. 

Heat pooled in his gut as he turned it over and over, it felt good too, and after another quick glance over his shoulder, he lifted the collar to his neck and held it there without closing the buckle. He was surprised when he liked how the leather pressed against his Adam’s apple when he swallowed. 

“It looks good on you,” a familiar voice whispered in his ear. Vimes dropped the collar and spun around. 

“How the—“ 

Havelock Vetinari was standing behind his shoulder, holding the collar in his left hand. He must have caught it on its way down. 

“You were rather distracted,” Vetinari replied, answering the unspoken question.

Vimes was grateful for the lack of good light because he was sure his face was on fire right now. His eyes went wide when Vetinari leaned into him and plucked something out of another box. 

“I must say Mr Scrope kept a very well stocked shop. Very efficient to keep the leash next to the collar.”

“You can’t take these,” Vimes growled.

“Oh?”

“This is a crime scene, everything in here is evidence.” 

“Yes, but evidence of what, I wonder?” Cold, blue eyes held Vimes’ gaze before Vetinari shrugged, “Very well,” he tossed the leash and collar back into the box.  

“Commander?” A voice called. 

“On my way,” Vimes shouted back, his eyes still locked with Vetinari’s who smirked at him. 

“I knew coming down here would be enlightening, commander. I just hadn’t quite anticipated how much. Food for thought?” 

Sam’s nostrils flared. They stared at each other for several heartbeats before he hissed, “Maybe,” and then walked away without another backward glance.

The End


End file.
